Your prejudice against academics is, I must admit, one I find amusing. The worst of them are indeed insufferable—arrogant in their small authorities, blind to the poetry of their own disciplines. But there are exceptions, rare and quiet, who toil not for titles but for truth. I can only hope to be counted among them.
Your words on alliteration intrigue me. The ancients knew that sound had power—hence why so many sacred texts are meant to be chanted, why spells are spoken, why poets from the Skalds to Shakespeare wove words with deliberate sonic force. The rhythm of a syllable can open doors in the mind, shift consciousness from one state to another (for instance, bacchanalias).
The internet is no place for the permanence of thought...
Your prejudice against academics is, I must admit, one I find amusing. The worst of them are indeed insufferable—arrogant in their small authorities, blind to the poetry of their own disciplines. But there are exceptions, rare and quiet, who toil not for titles but for truth. I can only hope to be counted among them.
Your words on alliteration intrigue me. The ancients knew that sound had power—hence why so many sacred texts are meant to be chanted, why spells are spoken, why poets from the Skalds to Shakespeare wove words with deliberate sonic force. The rhythm of a syllable can open doors in the mind, shift consciousness from one state to another (for instance, bacchanalias).
The internet is no place for the permanence of thought...